Mission accomplished.
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Thanks for checking out this installment of the Troubleshooter series. I truly hope you enjoyed your time in New Haven. I'd love to keep writing these novels, but I need just a little help from you. Reviews help a great deal in spreading the word, which in turn helps sell more books. Which, in turn, allows me to keep writing. It doesn't have to a long process: a simple 3–4 sentence review works wonders. Thanks again for reading, I hope you stick around for the next installment.
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— BC
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Mid-Credits
Cash Murdock munched on granola cereal and stared at his latest addiction: the latest news about the resurfacing of New Orleans. The virtual tour of the city was amazing, drone footage of monolithic buildings both oppressive and breathtaking, Art Deco architecture, and retro styles of vehicles and fashion. Just the thought of something that massive being underwater for decades and no one being the wiser was mind-boggling.
"Wild…"
"What's wild?"
Cash nearly choked on his cereal when Mateo bounded into the cramped kitchenette like an overgrown puppy dog. He leaped onto a stool and thrust his face at the screen, a broad grin on his face. "Are you still watching the lost city stuff? We should go there. Can we go, Cash? Be more fun seeing it in person."
"Probably would." Cash wiped milk from his chin with a napkin. "But the place is swamped with tourists right now, kid. I hear the waiting list is years long at this point, and it's only been a month."
"I bet Jinx can get us in. A few keyboard taps, and we'll be at the front of the list."
"Yeah, she probably could. But that's illegal. We're the guys that haul in lawbreakers, remember?"
Mateo smirked. "We're Nimrods, remember? We haul in anyone with a bounty on their head."
Cash sighed. "Is there something you wanted?"
Mateo paused, thinking hard before brightening. "Oh yeah — new bounty post. It just broke on the boards."
"I told you — we're not wasting time with the small fries. Gotta be big bulls if I'm gonna fire up the Battle-Cat."
"This guy's got a major payday on his head. Everyone is gonna be looking for him." Mateo waved a hand over his holoband, opening up the screen.
Cash squinted. "Five mil for live capture? Who the hell is this guy?" His eyes widened. "Shut it down, kid."
Mateo stared. "Shut it down? This is for big bulls, Cash. You just said—"
"I know what I said. This is something else, though. Shut it down, and for God's sake, don't mention anything about this guy to Happy."
"What guy?" Happy asked, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed.
Cash groaned, slapping a palm against his face. "Just great. All I wanted to do was enjoy a bowl of cereal and the morning news. Can't a man get even a few minutes of quiet time?"
"What guy, Cash?"
Mateo smiled at her. "We can't tell you, Happy. Cash said not to."
Cash's teeth gritted. "It's too late for that, kid."
Happy leaned over, slamming her metal hand against the table. "Pull it up, Mateo."
"But Cash said—"
"Now."
"Fine." He opened his screen with a surly frown.
Happy's face barely altered, but her pupils quivered as she stared. "That's not possible."
Cash nodded. "That's right — it's not possible. Gotta be a mistake, right?"
"They told me he was dead."
"Yeah, I was there. So, this is just bad intel. A hoax or something."
She glanced at the news footage on the window screen. "Just when the lost Haven resurfaces? Not a chance. He's alive. He's out there, and we have to be the ones to get him."
"Look, Happy — there are rules to this business—"
"Choke on your rules, Cash. You know what this means for me."
"—and the first one is to never take personal jobs. You need to sit this one out."
Her head snapped up, light flickering from her bionic eye. "Really? So if you found out your wife's murderer was on the bounty list, you wouldn't take the job?"
His face heated as if he'd just been slapped. "That's … not fair, Happy."
"Nothing's fair. You know what you'd do, Cash. Fire up the engines. We're going hunting."
He threw up his hands. "You don't even know where this guy is. He could be anywhere in the world right now."
"I know where he might be. Where everyone goes sooner or later."
"Yeah? Where's that?"
"Where it all began. Come on, I'll give you the coordinates." She stormed out the door, boots clomping down the hallway.
Cash glared at Mateo. "See what you started, kid?" Shaking his head, he followed her out at a much slower pace.
Mateo blinked. "What did I do?" Looking around, he spotted the half-eaten bowl of granola. "Are you gonna finish—?" Shrugging, he moved into Cash's vacated spot, shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and staring in wonder at the news coverage showing the streets of the lost city.
"Wild…"
The hunt begins in Nimrod Squad Vol 2: Trouble Man
Don't forget to visit the official website for additional info!
About the Author
Bard Constantine firmly believes he's living in the wrong age, so he creates timelines he feels more comfortable in. With this series, he introduces Havenworld, a retro-futuristic dystopian period where humanity survived a terrifying Cataclysm through city-sized constructs called Havens. More info on this world and upcoming novels can be found on his website: bardwritesbooks.com as well as his Facebook page.
Post-credits
Michelle jogged through the kitchen into the bar, giving an apologetic wave to Debbie. "Sorry I'm late. There was another riot on the way in."
Debbie shook her head. "I saw it on the news. More rebels starting trouble with the RCE."
"Been that way since I was a kid. I don't understand it. The UH took control a long time ago. Why keep fighting for a lost cause?"
"No idea. It's killing business, that's for sure."
Michelle glanced around the dimly-lit, nearly empty bar. "Another slow night, huh?"
"You know how it is." Debbie nodded to the lone man at the end of the counter. "New guy's a steady drinker and a good tipper. Take good care of him. Call a cabbie if he gets too juiced."
"He the one playing jazz on the jukebox?"
"Yeah, ever since he came in. Better than the trash that normally gets played, that's for sure. I'm out — see you tomorrow night."
"See you."
Michelle wiped the counter down, glancing at the man from the corner of her eye. He looked like he jumped out of a painting from an old cocktail lounge, dressed in a dark suit with a fedora tilted over his eyes as if transported from the era when mobsters and molls still ran the streets of Chicago. The smooth jazz playing in the background felt like a soundtrack for his being there.
She smiled as she approached. "Never seen you here before. You new in town?"
He glanced up, face shadowed by his fedora. "New? Not really. It's been a long time, though."
"You used to live here?"
"I was born here. Ran the streets as a kid, doing what I could to get by. You know how it is."